Chapter 42
T he back garden behind the bookshop had never looked more magical, despite being decidedly unfinished and not the recipient of a full-on makeover, it had had a good old tidy up and a little bit of tinkering.
Daisy stood at the kitchen window, tea towel in hand, watching fairy lights twinkle against a lovely, inky black sky.
She'd strung them haphazardly between an old tree in the corner and the shed, wound them around the fence posts and draped them over the lean-to. The effect had been just what she’d wanted: a little bit ramshackle and thrown together and very Daisy.
A lovely old chiminea she had found on Marketplace that Pete had helped her set up the weekend before crackled away in the corner.
Occasional tiny little sparks floated up the chimney into the sky and the smell of wood pricked the cool night air.
Around the chiminea, she'd arranged a collection of garden chairs that she’d accumulated from all over the show.
A couple stolen from her mum, others rescued from charity shops, and one particularly wonky folding chair that she and Miles had found over near the beach huts with a little paper handwritten note taped to it saying it was free to a good home.
Daisy felt as if the bookshop qualified as good a home as any and Miles had picked it up and carried it back.
Evie appeared at her elbow, bouncing slightly with anticipation. The twins had been obsessing over a packet of sparklers that Maggie had brought, counting and recounting them as if they might multiply. ‘Mummy, can we light the sparklers now?’
'Not yet, sweetheart. Wait until everyone's properly settled with their drinks.
' Daisy glanced around at the garden scene unfolding behind the bookshop and smiled.
It wasn't much; a patch of dodgy grass, flower beds that were more weed than flower, a small terraced area and a storage shed that had seen better days. It needed a really good makeover, which she hadn’t yet had time to do, but in its own special little way, it felt just right.
Annabelle, in a luxurious cream roll neck jumper, jeans and boots, was perched on the edge of a wooden bench deep in conversation with Elizabeth about something that was making them both laugh.
Miles's mum was wrapped in a wool blanket and holding a glass of steaming mulled wine in both hands.
The bruising on her face had faded and her eyes were bright and alert in a way they hadn't been when she'd first arrived in Pretty Beach.
Susannah appeared beside Daisy with a tray of homemade sausage rolls from the oven and nodded in Elizabeth’s direction as if reading her thoughts. 'The sea air's done her the world of good. She's looking so much better.'
'Miles said she walked down and did the harbour trail yesterday.’
‘Yes, she said. She’s clearly on the mend.’
Miles, in jeans, jumper and beanie, was standing at a small barbecue in the far corner near the gate with Piers.
Both of them had a bottle of beer and appeared to be putting the world to rights.
Suntanned Pete, in fluorescent blue board shorts with a huge Aran-style jumper, was crouched by the chiminea, feeding it another chunk of wood and looking tremendously pleased with his fire-management skills.
'This is the life, Daise! I like a good outdoor set-up.’
'Yep. I’m going to have a really good think about it out here and get some help with planting and stuff because I have no idea what I’m doing where garden beds are concerned.'
‘Yep, it’s scrubbed up well already.’
Holly and Xian had claimed two deck chairs closest to the warmth, both of them looking relaxed and pleased with themselves.
A pair of Holly’s diamanté-covered shoes were neatly placed beside the chair and she’d tucked her feet up under a throw.
Xian had an iPad held out in front of her and was almost continuously sipping from a silver flask.
Xian took a sausage roll and joked. ‘These are dangerous. I'm going to have to add extra steps to my morning run just to counteract tonight's damage.'
Maggie, who was sitting adjacent to Annabelle on a cushioned bench, laughed. 'Calories consumed outdoors don't count. It's a scientific fact.'
Xian tipped her head back and gulped from her flask. ‘Oh, that’s alright then. I’ll have another six.’
Daisy sat down and looked at the little flames in the mouth of the chiminea and chatted to Holly and Xian.
'To be honest, I still can't quite believe you actually bought the newsagent’s building.
Every time I walk past it, I expect to see GayesBooks moving in with professional displays. What a horrible thought that is…'
Holly's grin was wicked in the firelight. 'It’s one of the best purchases we've ever made. All that market research and professional planning that investment firm did, defeated by two women who own bakeries and one who trades shares all day long via her iPad.’
Xian cackled and tapped her iPad. ‘All in a day’s work for me.’
‘You kept it so quiet and pretended to organise the petition and everything.’
Xian tapped her nose. ‘That was all part of our strategy, then we swooped in for the kill.’
Pete chuckled. 'That woman who came in asking all those pointed questions about your business must have been furious. Her reconnaissance work was for nothing.'
Daisy shuddered slightly, remembering the calculating way the woman had assessed her bookshop, measuring it like a commodity. 'I felt so helpless when I realised what they were planning. I’m glad all of that is over. I am so not cut out for big business.’
Xian nodded. 'Sometimes the best way to fight corporate bullies is just to squash them. We all know what happens when those big chains move into small towns. They promise choice and convenience, but the character gets sucked out and you're left with something that could be anywhere.'
Maggie tutted. 'Can you imagine what it might have started? Pretty Beach without its independent shops would just be another generic coastal town. The bookshop, the bakery, Maisy’s, they're what make this place special and it’s been like that since the day dot.'
Miles strolled over and pointed to the barbecue. 'All done over there, so whenever everyone is ready.’
Elizabeth smiled. ‘You’re good at barbecues, Miles.’
‘I am good at some things. Are you okay? Warm enough?’
Elizabeth smiled. 'I'm more than okay. I am discovering there are worse places to recover from being mugged than a cottage by the sea surrounded by, well, all of this.' Elizabeth gestured to the sky as the sound of the ferry horn honked from the wharf. ‘It’s so nice here.’
Susannah chuckled. 'You're getting the Pretty Beach treatment. We're like a cross between a therapy clinic and a catering service. Once you're officially part of the community, there's no escape from our well-meaning interference. That’s if we like you, of course.'
'I’m not sure I want to escape. This is the first place I've felt properly safe since, well, since it happened. I'd forgotten what it was like not to be constantly looking over my shoulder.' Elizabeth chuckled. ‘Did anyone say more mulled wine?’
Daisy got up. ‘I’ll go and get another jug.’
A few minutes later, with a huge old jug full of mulled wine in her hand, Daisy stood on the back terrace step for a second and surveyed the scene playing out in front of her.
It was perfect in an ordinary, cosy, not-that-exciting way.
When she’d first moved in, the garden had been an overgrown wilderness that she'd been too overwhelmed to tackle.
Now it was full of people she loved, eating food her mum had made, warmed by a fire Pete had helped her install, lit by fairy lights that made everything look magical.
She thought about how, not that long before, none of it had existed in her life; not just the garden, but the bookshop, the girls having a forever home, Elizabeth and Miles.
She'd been scraping by financially, constantly worried about making rent, doing nearly everything herself because she'd had to. She’d been lonely, had felt as if life was precarious and most of the time she’d been running on empty and exhausted.
Let’s not even mention the anxiety episodes.
She looked around at the garden again, at Elizabeth wrapped in her blanket and laughing at something Susannah had said, at her sisters deep in conversation about Christmas plans, at the twins all wrapped up in jumpers, bobble hats and scarves.
As the fire in the chiminea flickered and the fairy lights twinkled against the darkening sky, Daisy felt lovely, loved and happy.
It wasn’t just happiness, though, more a bone-deep sort of contented, safe feeling that she hadn't felt since having the girls. And to be honest, why would she not feel that? Finally, things were going her way. The bookshop was thriving, the girls were settled and happy, and Miles had become woven into the fabric of her daily life so completely that she couldn't imagine it without him. His mum was healing in the cottage by the sea, Holly and Xian had saved Pretty Beach from corporate invasion, and her garden was full of fairy lights and people she loved. It wasn't a perfect life and there were always bills to worry about and decisions to make, but since she’d moved back to Pretty Beach, she felt as if she’d been doused in the very special, very hard to put your finger on magic of it all. Pretty Beach had taken her back into its core. Couldn’t argue with that.